When I first started graduate school at the University of South Dakota, my wife Brenda and I moved into a small home owned by my brother Tom. His terms were fair – no rent, pay utilities.

We lived there for a year before Tom decided to leave the area and sell the home.

He did. To a man who was powerful and who was an administrator at the University. I knew him quite well.

I called him the day before we were supposed to be out and told him we had a couple pieces of antique furniture still in the house. He said it was getting late so just leave it and get it in the morning.

Nice guy.

The next morning, however, we encountered a locksmith changing the locks and a policeman apparently on guard against a couple of angry former occupants.

When we confronted the administrator, whose wife was an antique dealer, he shrugged and had the cop force us away.

Nice guy indeed.

The antiques were from Brenda’s grandmother and the administrator’s words were fighting words. Panicked, I called Tim Johnson, the University Student Legal Aid director, and asked what we should do?

“Break in and take your furniture.”

-

Continued...